


even when you're next to me

by NoirSongbird



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (technically since Catra works at one), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/F, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Catra has been in love with Adora for as long as she's known what love is. The problem is, Adora definitely doesn't feel the same way--because, seriously, what idiot would propose a friends with benefits arrangement to someone she's in love with? (What idiot would sayyes?Catra. Catra is what idiot.)But the thing is, it isn't enough. It can't ever be enough. And so Catra is going to end it, before she gets in deeper than she can ever get out.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 279





	even when you're next to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CruelisnotMason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/gifts).



> This was written as a request for Cruel, who is absolutely lovely and gave me a great prompt and let me MAKE CATRA SAD. Love it, love it.
> 
> Title is from "Sleepover" by Hayley Kiyoko, because what better for dumb lesbian pining, amirite.

This was a stupid decision.

Catra told herself that every single time, and yet she always found herself here, having wandered back into Adora’s arms. Sure, it was soft and warm, and Adora’s smile was like sunshine, and Catra always felt better when they were together—but that was the  _ problem. _

Or, well, the problem was that things were  _ too _ nice, with Adora. The problem was that Adora was too soft, and too bright, and too full of sunshine. And the further problem was that Adora had sunshine where her brains should be, like a big, dumb golden retriever. Worse, she was a big, dumb golden retriever who could never possibly return Catra's feelings.

Which was the real rub, wasn't it? The problem wasn't Adora. It wasn't how nice it was to come over to her place, and have a few drinks, and then absolutely take her apart in bed. It wasn't the sunshine, or the stupidity, or the affection Adora insisted on showing. It was that every time they did this, Adora found a way to remind Catra that Catra was her  _ best friend _ . That they were  _ just _ friends,- even if their friendship had recently started to include certain exciting sexual benefits. They weren't anything more than that, and they certainly weren't, and couldn't be, what Catra wanted.

Because the problem was that from the moment she'd been old enough to understand what love was, Catra had loved her best friend.

They'd grown up together—two little girls, dumped into the foster system by uncaring parents at a young age and bounced into the same foster home. Shadow Weaver had been an undeniably shitty mother, and for their entire time with her, Catra and Adora had whispered back and forth about what they would do when they could grow up and get away. How they’d run away together, get out of cold, miserable Boston and drive all the way to the California coast, and live out their lives in the sun and sand. It had been a dramatic, childish dream, but Catra clung to it through nights with not enough food and days when Shadow Weaver dressed them up pretty so the nice CPS lady could see how happy they were. She and Adora would grow up, and go to California, and no one would know them, and they’d be happy.

But Adora, of course, had tripped into the biggest miracle the system had to offer. When they started high school, Adora had met Glimmer, and Glimmer's parents, and Glimmer's parents  _ liked her _ . So, Glimmer's family had taken Adora in. Adopted her. Given her a real home. 

Left Catra behind, because no one wanted to give a home to a feral hellcat.

That was the first time Adora broke Catra’s heart.

And sure, she and Catra stayed in touch, saw each other at school, texted after—until Adora got her athletic scholarship, and went to college, and made even more friends, and the place for Catra in her life disappeared.

That was the second time Adora broke Catra’s heart.

When she realized that Adora wasn’t coming back, and that their California dreams were for nothing, Catra tried to put her feelings in a box. She'd tried so, so hard to move on. There were other girls—but none of them lasted. It was hard to date when all you could think of was the one who got away.

It had been a miracle, then, when Adora came back, and when she'd come back, she was— 

Radiant. Beautiful. Taller, with longer hair, and she didn't wear it in that dumb ponytail anymore, even if she still styled up that silly little pouf. She'd wandered into the coffee shop where Catra worked, and they'd locked eyes, and Adora had acted like they hadn't been apart for years. She'd gasped, and lit up, and come over and scooped Catra into a hug, and—really, Catra had wanted to be angry. She'd wanted to hiss and spit and insist that Adora leave her alone. She'd wanted to tell Adora how much she missed her, and how much it had hurt for Adora to walk away. But she didn't, because in the face of Adora's utter delight at finding her again, Catra fell apart, utterly. She welcomed Adora back into her life with open arms.

And that had been so, so stupid, because Adora was never going to see Catra the same way Catra always saw her. Catra knew that, and yet...she'd wanted so badly for it to just be enough to have Adora back in her life that she shoved her pining aside, buried her aching heart, and decided they should be friends again.

The worst part was that every girl at the cafe wanted a piece of Adora. And it wasn't like Catra could blame them, of course; Adora was beautiful, and bright, and single, somehow, in some strange miracle. Even more miraculous was that she never actually reciprocated any of the serious interest other girls had for her. A fling, here or there, but nothing long-term or serious. Every time some new girl was left sighing, heart broken by Adora's rejection, Catra hoped just a little bit more that Adora, too, might be carrying a torch.

That hope was shattered when a giggly, slightly buzzed Adora climbed into Catra's lap and asked, with all the tact of a rhinoceros, for Catra to  _ eat her out, pleeeaaasseee. _ Because—because surely no one would set up some stupid friends-with-benefits arrangement wiuth someone they were actually in love with. That would be colossally, indescribably stupid. Not even Adora could be that dumb. Or that utterly blind to her own feelings.

That was the third time Adora broke Catra’s heart.

After that, Catra stopped counting, because every time Adora booped her nose, or laughed at her jokes, or gave her that big, bright smile—and most of all, every time Adora took her to bed and treated Catra like she was the center of Adora’s world—Catra’s heart shattered all over again.

Surely, there had to be a point where it ended. Where Catra just couldn’t take it anymore. Where she  _ had  _ to get up and walk away, out of self-preservation if nothing else.

The problem was, Catra couldn’t seem to find that point.

So here she was, again, curled up in post-coital “bliss” with a contented, deeply cuddly Adora, feeling utterly miserable about every choice that had led her here. 

“Hey, Catra?” Adora started, and Catra made a tiny noise of acknowledgement. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” Catra lied, as if there was any universe in which she could lie to Adora’s face. “Why?”

“You don’t seem fine,” Adora said, and Catra huffed.

“Don’t push it, okay? I’m  _ good.” _ Maybe if she kept insisting, Adora would drop it. Please, she needed Adora to drop it.

“Catra,” Adora said, and her voice was so soft and so gentle, and once again, Catra’s heart utterly shattered. It wasn’t fair, that Adora had so much power over her and she had  _ absolutely no idea. _

But maybe….maybe if she just…maybe if she was honest, or honest enough, she could get out of this. They could stop doing this terrible dance.

“Okay, fine,” Catra said, and she wiggled out of Adora’s arms, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. Her back was to Adora, and that felt like a barrier she needed. She couldn’t do this if she was looking Adora in the eye.

“Catra?” Adora asked, voice soft, and she reached out to put a hand on Catra’s shoulder. It was always a knife to the chest, hearing her name in that voice, because it was never said the way Catra wanted it to be.

“Stop it,” she said, softly.

“What?” Adora asked, and Catra didn’t have to look to know what her face looked like: nose wrinkled up in confusion, head tilted to the side, the very embodiment of bepuzzlement.

“ _ Stop it,”  _ Catra said, louder, firmer. She shrugged off Adora’s hand, and Adora made a little pained noise, which Catra thought was ironic as all hell. “Stop…being all soft with me, you don’t need to do that.”

“You’re my friend—my  _ best _ friend, I love you like a sister—” Adora started, which made Catra let out a bitter, growly laugh.

“ _ Like a sister?  _ Wow, do you eat Glimmer out when you’re bored, too?” 

“Okay,” Adora said, “that  _ maybe  _ wasn’t the best point of reference—”

“Shut up,” Catra said, and Adora obligingly shut up, “and let me talk.” Adora made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and Catra looked up at the ceiling, hissing between her teeth. “Here’s what’s wrong: I love you, and  _ not  _ like a sister, and you don’t feel the same way, and I can’t keep doing this…this thing where we hook up, and have a little fun, and get each other off, and then go back to our lives and pretend it doesn’t mean anything. Because it  _ does  _ mean something, to me, and it doesn’t mean the same thing to you, and  _ I can’t keep doing this.  _ I won’t.”

She stood up, and stormed over to where she’d dropped her clothes, still refusing to look back at Adora, lest her resolve crack in the face of Adora being upset.

“Catra, wait,” Adora said, and Catra heard the bed creak as she got out of it, “please, just—we can talk about this.”

“No, we can’t,” Catra said, flatly. “You don’t feel the same way about me that I do about you, and that’s that.” She adjusted her tank top, and threw on her button-up, the last piece of her clothes. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me.” She stormed out of Adora’s bedroom, to the door out of her apartment, and as she pulled the front door open, she heard Adora call “ _ Catra, wait!” _

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t. Not anymore.

* * *

It was a good thing Catra wasn’t scheduled to work the next day, because she didn’t want to move out of bed. Which was stupid, obviously, because for one, it wasn’t like this was a breakup or something, and for another, she’d definitely done the right thing for herself by cutting Adora off. There would be no more agonizing about what things meant between them, no more ridiculous hoping, no more fantastic sex followed by very nice cuddling that made Catra wish it  _ meant something—  _

No. She had to stop thinking about that. She had to get on with her life.

Later, though. For now, she wanted to have a chance to mourn what could have been.

* * *

The third day after her not-breakup, there was a knock on Catra’s apartment door. 

She groaned, unhappily, and rolled over, tucking herself under the blanket dhe’d dragged onto her couch sometime the day before—because going all the way back to her bedroom or all the way out to the kitchen had become too much of a chore, but the couch made for a happy medium. 

In the days since she’d walked away, Adora had called probably close to two dozen times. She’d sent texts, left voicemails--and Catra ignored all of them. The texts sat unread, a ticking notification number. The missed calls were dismissed. The voicemails deleted, unheard. Her phone’s voice-to-text gave her snippets of Adora’s words, but Catra didn’t want to absorb them. It didn’t matter what Adora had to say. 

“Wildcat?” The voice from the other side of the door was familiar, and it made Catra wince, guiltily. “Are you okay? You didn’t show up for work, and everybody’s worried.”

“I’m here, I’m coming.” Catra slowly untangled from her blankets and slogged over to the door, pulling it open, and was greeted with about what she expected—Scorpia, her coworker, looking so concerned it was like a knife. “I’m just not feeling good. Sorry I forgot to call, I hope things weren’t too bad without me.”

“We did fine,” Scorpia said, frowning in the way of someone who definitely did not believe Catra’s excuses, “so I’m just worried about you. Are you sick? Do you want some help? I can make you soup, or whatever—”

“It’s fine, Scorpia, I’m not sick.” Catra sighed. She couldn’t exactly lie in the face of Scorpia’s insistent earnestness. “Just…ugh, it’s a long story, and you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll be in tomorrow. Sorry again.”

“Tell me,” Scorpia said, stepping around Catra and into her apartment. 

“I…” Catra started, but she honestly couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence. Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded, beckoning Scorpia over to the couch, where she huddled up in her blanket and told Scorpia everything. About Adora, about her feelings, about their arrangement—and about walking away. 

_ “Catra,”  _ Scorpia said, full of sympathy, when she was done. 

“It was all so stupid,” Catra said, huddling in tighter, “and now I’m being even stupider.”

“No, you’re not,” Scorpia said, reaching out to put her hands on Catra’s raised knees, “you’re hurting. You’ve  _ been  _ hurting, for a while. Loving someone like that, who doesn’t love you back…it’s not fair, but it can get better, Catra. There’s gonna be some girl who  _ does  _ want you for you. Maybe it’s not Adora, but maybe that means this is good? And you can start moving on.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Catra agreed, and she sighed. “Thanks, Scorpia.”

“Any time, Wildcat.”

* * *

As promised, she made it to work the next day. And the day after, and the day after. Getting back to work made everything so much easier, giving her something else to focus on. She could make drinks and serve pastries and smile at pretty girls, and she could believe that it might be okay. 

Adora’s texts and calls slowly petered off—apparently, she finally got the message that Catra wasn’t interested in hearing from her. Things were quiet for a long, peaceful week.

Until they weren’t anymore.

Until halfway through her shift, on a rainy afternoon ten days after she walked out of Adora’s apartment, Adora herself came slouching through the cafe door.

Catra had to admit, she looked like a mess. She hadn’t bothered with styling her hair, and she looked haggard and miserable, like she hadn’t slept for days. Her being wet only enhanced the effect—it was like looking at a miserable stray dog. Part of Catra wanted to duck into the back, but she was frozen, rooted in place behind the bakery case where she had been rearranging pastries.

“Catra?” Adora asked, tremulously, as she came up to the counter. “I—I’m sorry for bothering you at work like this, I know I shouldn't, but can we talk? Maybe, please?”

A little theatrically, Scorpia leaned in next to her.

“Do you want me to make her leave? Because I can make her leave,” she said, and Adora winced. Catra, though, shook her head.

“...No. Can you cover me? I’m gonna take a break.” Scorpia frowned, a little, and then nodded, and Catra pointed towards an empty table. “Sit down, I’ll be right over.” 

It was stupid of her to do, but before she ducked out, she whipped up two warm drinks—Adora’s favorite, a white chocolate mocha with a pump of raspberry syrup, and her own, a latte with cinnamon and caramel. When they were done, she waltzed over to the table and set Adora’s mug down in front of her.

“Here,” she said, “you look like you need something warm, and Huntara’s not gonna care.” Adora nodded, taking the mug and wrapping her hands around it.

“Thanks,” she said, voice soft. She sounded sadder than Catra could ever remember hearing. 

“You’re lucky it’s slow today, you know,” Catra said, “or I wouldn’t have time for this. But you’ve got thirty minutes, so…say whatever you want to say.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that long,” Adora said, and she hugged herself, shoulders sagging, as she stared down at her drink. “I just...that thing you said? About being in love with me? Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” Catra said, flatly and unhesitatingly. It was true. It was  _ still _ true. No point denying.

“That…then…” Adora swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…to make you feel led on, or to hurt you. I never wanted to do that, Catra, I promise, I just…” She looked up, meeting Catra’s eyes, and Catra was struck by how utterly miserable she looked. “I don’t. Love you like a sister. I thought I did, until.” She swallowed. “Until you said all that, and walked out, and then you wouldn’t take my calls, and—I  _ love you,  _ Catra, the way you love me, the romantic way, and I—I’m so sorry for not figuring it out sooner. I get it, if you don’t want to be with me anymore, or whatever else, I just…I had to talk to you. I had to try.”

Catra stared in silence for a long, stunned moment. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing—what Adora had just confessed. She made a tiny, shocked noise, and then surged forward, standing up, leaning over the table, and grabbing Adora’s face to kiss her, hard. Adora made a startled little squeak, and then leaned in, kissing back, and Catra held that kiss until she needed to sit down and catch her breath.

“Idiot,” she said, softly. “Why couldn’t you figure it out sooner?” Adora nodded.

“Because I’m an idiot, like you said. But.  _ Your _ idiot?” She asked, hopefully.

“.... _ My  _ idiot,” Catra agreed. Adora smiled, in the way that made her whole face—and the whole room, really—light up.

“I like the sound of that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Coem talk to me on twitter at [noirsongbird!](http://twitter.com/noirsongbird)


End file.
